Ducks In a Row: The Eternal Bliss of Greg Sanders
by singingstarryknights
Summary: Asking Sara for her opinion? no problem. Asking Sara for help? easy. Asking Sara to marry you? Harder than it looks.... Number 9 without the epilogue in the Ducks in a Row Series
1. Chapter 1

1. In Which Mr. Sanders is Back at DNA

Greg Sanders poured over the microscope in his old lab, pausing briefly to take in a sip of the fragrant coffee at his elbow. He leaned in, and carefully turned and twisted the knobs to bring a blood sample from Nick's case into focus more clearly. Without conscious thought, he pressed the codes for the processing that the rest of the sample was to receive. His eyes focused on the hemoglobin platelets, but his other senses noticed Sara as soon as she rounded the corner from the garage. A smile tugged at his lips, and it turned to a grin as she entered, and came to stand beside him.

"And just when I thought this room couldn't get any brighter." He raised his eyes to meet her gaze, and accepted the chaste kiss she dropped on his lips.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Sanders." She smiled, and laid an evidence bag holding numerous sample containers on his desk.

"I tend to go with the tried and true." He raised his mug to his lips. "Tell me this isn't my Christmas present, love."

"No, these would be all the blood samples from that homicide at the Tangiers. Gris and I have it figured, just waiting on you, sunshine."

"Plain hits? What, no comparisons?"

"We just need an ID." He groaned dramatically.

"Sara, honey, if I'm going to be stuck in this time warp, you can't even give me something fun?" She broke into a smile, as the DNA machine beeped. Greg spun in his swivel seat to face the other monitor. "I think I have a hit for Nick. Hold on a sec, love." Greg's fingers danced across the keyboard, as his eyes darted from the printouts to the monitor, back to the print outs, and over to the microscope, and back to the monitor. Instantly, a side-by-side comparison of DNA samples came up. Sara watched with amusement as Greg went about processing Nick's data a few steps further than he was required in a swift, fluid motion. He picked up the receiver of the desk phone, dialed a number without looking, waited for it to ring once, and hung it up. He swiveled in his seat back to face her, chuckling.

"What's so funny, Greggo?"

"I forgot how much fun this chair is." He flashed her a wide grin. "I'll get right on this for you. You have the guy in custody?"

"Yeah. Just need confirmation." He leaned in, and met her lips with his.

"Yeah, yeah, get out of here so I can do this shitty job I hate." She tossed him a grin and turned to leave.

Nick came tumbling into the lab, rushing over to Greg's area.

"Nick." Greg gathered the papers he had compiled and organized, and handed them over. "I finished up the comparisons for you, and printed out the compiled results." Nick took the stack of papers from Greg, and glanced at the results. Then stared at them again. Long and hard.

"Greg."

"Mmm." Greg had already moved on to Sara's bag of blood, and was entering the label data into the computer. His fingers had resumed their dance, and he was opening a package of sterile droppers. "Was there something you needed?"

"This is amazing, Greg."

"Don't go spreading it around, I want to be back out in the field as soon as Mia pops out the kid and Hodges' sister recovers." Nick tore his eyes from the results.

"Thanks, Greg. I owe you." Greg nodded absentmindedly, as his fingers fell on a yellow post it note. Nick practically ran out of the lab and down the corridor to find Catherine. As he pulled the post it out of the bag, he recognized Sara's even, slender scrawl, and the message brought a smile to his face. He carefully lifted the post it from the blood sample swab, and placed it on the frame of the monitor on his main computer.

"God I love working here." Greg smiled to himself, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, and setting to work on Sara's blood samples.


	2. In Which Mr Sanders Formulates a Plan

2. In Which Mr. Sanders Formulates a Plan

Greg arrived home at his apartment 14 hours after his shift was officially over. He tossed his keys in the bowl on the table, dropped his bag, and shed his jacket. He reached into the pocket and took out the velvet box that had made it's home there for months now. He knew that nestled inside the tiny box was a simple, delicate band holding a tiny sparkling diamond.

"Easier said than done, I guess." Greg turned it over in his hand.

A grin spread across his lips every time he opened the box, and now was no exception. He had had this particular piece of jewelry in his jacket pocket since he had decided to ask Sara to marry him. However, he had had the ring in his dresser drawer since he was nineteen, since his grandmother had passed away and his Papa Olaf had given it to him, for "that girl that will love you the way I loved your Grandma Elsa." It was all he had left of either of them, and there was no other place he wanted it than on Sara's left hand.

Greg wiped a tear that he hadn't realized had fallen down his cheek. Difficult indeed. Suddenly he felt as if he couldn't breathe. He inhaled slowly, and let out the air, feeling his pulse return to normal. He shook his head, scolding himself for being so worried about her. It was just Sara, what was he concerned about.

Sara, who let him drag her through puddles in the rain, Sara who held on to him tightly when he lifted her off the ground. Sara who had, just yesterday, curled up with him on this very couch and watched a stupid movie, just because. Sara, who had writhed under him later that evening, softly moaning his name, crumpling his sheets. Sara who had become so content in everyday life, breaking out of her shell, Sara, who had let him play Gorbachev to the Berlin Wall around her heart.

Would she really say yes? Was he out of line? Was he crazy? Greg sighed loudly and sat back. There was only one thing to do. He dropped to his hands and knees, and fished an arm blindly under the couch. He made a triumphant groan as his fingers hit their target. He pulled out his beloved magic eight ball, and sat back on the couch, shaking it profusely. He slammed it down on his coffee table, and waited for the bubbles to settle. When he peered over the top to see the message, it read:

A SURE

BET

Greg grinned to himself and stashed the box back in his jacket pocket. It was only then that he realized that Sara's coat was hanging on the coat rack, and her purse was on the other end of the couch. She had come here after she wrapped her case, and here he was, fooling around with the ring when she was in the next room, and he had no plan.

"Talk about a close call."

"What about a call?" Sara emerged from Greg's bedroom, trying in vain to wipe the sleep from her eyes. "Are you just getting in?" Greg closed the distance between them quickly, and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Yeah, Grissom kept me a might longer than I thought."

"No kidding. I got out hours ago." She tossed her hair into a ponytail and wrapped her arms suggestively around his waist. "I would say I stripped myself of the offending clothing I wore at work and waited in bed for you with candles and a bottle of champagne, but really I raided your closet and fell asleep." He grinned lopsided at her and bent to kiss her, long and deliberately. His fingers ran gently up and down her back, and found their way under the loose Rolling Stones tee shirt she was wearing.

It was when she let out a soft moan that his knees buckled, and any thought of a shower or a dinner was forgotten as he guided her to his bedroom, never leaving her delicate lips unattended.

Greg backed Sara up against the foot of the bed, and toppled her over, landing on top of her. He wedged a knee between her thighs, and pressed her into the mattress. He grinned stupidly, drugged with her squirming body and intoxicated with the taste of her lips. She tangled her legs in his and around his waist, and flipped him over in one fluid, practiced motion. She moved to straddle him, and he wrapped his arms around her body tightly. He groaned as she trailed kisses down the nape of his neck.

"I'm going to marry you, Sara Sidle." He heard her soft chuckle, and it vibrated through his body, settling below his waist.

"If you say so, Mr. Sanders."

It wasn't until several hours later, with Sara snuggled against his chest, wrapped into his arms, that Greg developed a plan, and tomorrow he would put it into motion. He pressed a soft kiss to his girlfriend's temple, careful not to wake her or disturb her sleeping form.

"I love you, Sar, and I will marry you. That I can promise. Wait and see." He pulled her body closer to his, and let sleep take him.


	3. In Which Mr Sanders is Romantic

3. In Which Mr. Sanders is Romantic

Greg identified the blearing, obnoxious noise of the alarm clock on the side of the bed. He reached over Sara, and slapped the snooze button. Even through the offensive noise and the sunset outside, Greg turned his attentions to the sleeping woman next to him, and pressed slow, sensual kisses to her neck and down her shoulders.

"Mmmpht." Sara moaned. "Greg, I don't want to get up yet."

"Sorry, love." He grinned. "We have time enough for a shower before shift." He started pressing childish kisses to her skin, and she groaned.

"Gerroff me, Sanders." He dropped one last kiss on her shoulder and rolled over to his side of the bed, making his way to the door. When he turned back, Greg witnessed Sara climbing out of the covers and felt around on his side of the bed. "Wait, where did you go?" She squinted, and reached for her glasses beside the alarm clock. "Greg, come back to bed."

"Better get a move on Sar, today is going to be a beautiful, beautiful day." He tossed his tee shirt off his frame and dropped it in the hallway as he shut the bathroom door and turned on the shower.

Sara already had a bagel toasted and lathered in cream cheese, and had a steaming hot cup of coffee ready for him when he entered the tiny kitchen, now dressed in jeans and a dark long sleeve shirt. She handed him the mug and slid the bagel towards him.

"Thanks."

"You didn't eat anything last night, I felt bad." She sat across from him, her own mug raised to her lips. Greg began to sweat. He could do it now. Just ask her. All they were doing was drinking coffee. He quickly took a bite of the bagel. "What?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"Nothing, I was just thinking. We never sit like this. It's kind of nice. You know, just to sit." Greg glanced nervously at Sara, but she seemed not to notice how uncomfortable he had made himself, obsessing about the ring in the other room, and the question that wouldn't leave his head.

"You sure you're ok?" Sara drained the rest of her coffee and set the mug in the sink, turning to rest her hips against the countertop. "You seem quiet." He took one last sip of the orgasmic blue Hawaiian.

"Just tired." She nodded, not really believing him, and kissed the top of his head as she made her way to the bedroom to get dressed for work. Greg sighed heavily. This was going to be a long shift. He better work on his poker face fast or she was going to ruin her own surprise.

The drive to work was relatively quiet, Greg left the radio on the station that she had it on the previous day, he grumbled half heartedly about having to be in the lab for the next three weeks, she grumbled about having to be in the field without him in return.

They were still a few minutes out from the lab when Sara reached over into his lap and entwined her fingers in his. He squeezed them and raised them to his lips as they stopped at a red light. He could do it. Just ask her. Ask her now. She won't say no, Greg, she loves you. Just as he decided to reach into his pocket to retrieve the box, the light turned green. He released her hand to pull out and take the left, and Sara's fingers settled on his upper thigh.

"What's bothering you, Greg?" He flashed her a wide grin, and shook his head.

"Just the prospects of spending the whole of my shift at that wretched lab with Bobby instead of out and about with you." The smile that he received settled his nerves a bit, and he bent over the console to capture her lips with his own just as he tossed the Denali into park outside the lab. "Sara?" Greg's voice sounded suddenly like a little boy's. She turned back to him from the door, hand still on the handle.

"Yes."

"Do you love me?" Sara let go of the handle, and sat back in the seat. She cast her gaze down, and took several breaths. "Sara?" Greg panicked. "I knew it, this is all so stupid. I mean I actually thought that we had something that was lasting, you know, but if you don't want to take this seriously, then its ok with me, I mean, whatever you want, I love you, and I will love you forever, and if you don't feel the same, then I guess my wasted heart will love you till the day I die, but it's ok, really, I mean, we haven't been together all that long, really. I just thought-"

"Greg." He looked at her, his heart literally on his sleeve, love and defeat written all over his face.

"I just want to be sure you are happy." He whispered. "That's more important to me than anything." Sara reached across the console and dug her fingers into his hair, and pulled his lips to her own.

"I am happy, Greg, and I am happy because of you. Of course I love you. I can't believe that you thought you had to ask." She returned his grin, finding his smile infectious, and climbed out of the Denali. Greg pulled the keys out of the ignition, ready to start a new shift. Today, he thought, today was going to be a really, really good day.

Unfortunately, Nick and Catherine had a case hotter than Hades, and he was delayed at the lab. Even after he suggested Sara get a lift to her apartment with Warrick, he wasn't able to get away from the lab for another few hours. There was bad timing, then there was the bad timing of lab work. Damn Grissom for sending him back to the lab rat stint for these few weeks. However, soon was the hour of putting the plan into action.

Once home, Sara Sidle dropped her purse on the coffee table as she entered her apartment. She shed her jacket with ease, dropping it over the arm of the couch. She sighed heavily as she glanced at the answering machine, and smiled when she saw the red light blink, indicating one message. She hit the play button, and instantly Greg's voice filled the room.

"Hey. I'm going to be a little bit longer than I thought; Nick and Catherine have an obscene amount of samples to be processed. Eat dinner without me. I'll be there later. I have to stop at my place quick. Je t'aime avec tout mon coeur. I'll see you later." Sara chuckled to herself as Greg lapsed into French, and back into English. He must not have been alone in whatever room he had called her from. She kicked off her shoes.

"I love you too, loser." She told the answering machine. She was looking forward to her night off, and she was starting with the cold veggie pizza in the fridge and one of Greg's mindless movies in the cabinet.

The next thing she knew, she had woken with a start, and it was dark in the apartment. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she climbed off the couch and headed towards the bathroom for a hot shower before Greg returned from work, stripping off one layer of clothing at a time. She twisted the faucet knobs, and was met with a warm spray that became hotter in moments. Sara closed her eyes, and let the water run all over her face, down her shoulders, and over the rest of her body.

Greg turned his key to Sara's apartment, slowly opening the door. He heard her before he saw her, singing behind the closed door of the bathroom, her sultry voice, uninhibited, mixing with the sound of running water. He glanced around the living room, saw the half eaten slice of cold pizza on a plate on the coffee table, and the throw blanket rumpled. She had shed her clothing on the way to the bathroom, leaving it in a trail, which seemed to beckon him to follow it to her. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. He quietly shut the door, and set down his duffle bag. He shrugged off his leather jacket, kicked off his shoes. He pulled the velvet box out of his jeans pocket, and opened it. Grinning at the sight of the tiny sparkling diamond set in the gold band, he plucked it out, and strung it on a simple gold chain, clasping it around his neck.

This was going to be good.

Very good.

He dropped his belt beside her shirt, and tossed his socks near her pants. Greg silently opened the bathroom door.

"Hey."

"Hi, I'll be but a minute. How is Nick and Catherine's case coming?"

"Fine. They are closing it now." He opened the shower door, and walked into the warm spray.

"Greg! You're getting your clothes all wet." He spun her and pressed his lips against hers as she leaned into his embrace seductively. "Or we could just take them off." He laughed against her lips and nodded. He pulled her closer as she swiftly rid him of his tee shirt. He kissed down her jaw line, waiting with the anticipation of a small child at Christmas morning for her to notice the delicate chain and the ring strung through it. He chuckled against her skin as he slipped his hands down her hips, and around her waist. Her fingers were at his jeans' button, already soaking wet, when she froze.

"Greg."

"Mmmm." He smiled to himself and continued to press light kisses up her collarbone, and in the crook of her neck.

"Greg." She pushed him away by a few inches, and he broke out into a full on grin when he saw that her eyes had found the ring, hanging from around his neck. They stood like that; hips pressed together, faces inches apart, water beating down on Sara's back, for what was actually only a few moments, but what seemed like several long, rainy days to Greg.

"I kinda had something on my mind these days-"

"Greg."

"Sara." He grinned at her like a fool, raising a dripping hand to her dripping cheek, turning her face towards him, meeting her eyes with his. "Will you marry me?"

Greg received the answer he had hoped and prayed for months as Sara captured his lips with her own, and pressed him up against the tile wall. He broke away, and held her face in his hands, the water turning cooler.

"Please?"

"Absolutely." She reached up and pushed his scraggly hair out of his face. Mischief sparkled in his eyes, and chestnut irises burned to a deep chocolate with desire. In one swift movement Greg had spun her around in the shower stall, pinned her against the tiles, and lifted her to rest on his hips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and buried her hands in his dripping hair.

Greg groaned loudly as the forgotten water shooting from the showerhead turned icy cold as the hot water ran out. He reached behind him and threw open the stall door, as Sara untangled herself and shut off the valve to stop the offending water. He grabbed a towel off the rack and tossed it on the toilet cover, draping another one around Sara's dripping body.

Greg sat on the toilet cover, pulling Sara down onto his lap. She straddled him, dropping a tender kiss on his lips, and ruffled his hair into gentle spikes. She draped her arms around his shoulders, and planted another kiss in his hair.

"Greg." Sara tilted her head to see his eyes. Greg met her gaze, and choked out a laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I, uh, I forgot to, um, well, I forgot the part where I give you the ring." He ducked his head, removing the delicate chain from his neck. His fingers closed over the diamond. He took her left hand, and pressed a kiss in its palm, and slipped the ring onto her finger. When he returned his gaze to her face, he saw tears streaming from her eyes. As she blinked them away, a single tear fell from her cheek to his hands that held both of hers.

"What?" Sara smiled as Greg started to laugh all over again. Her questioning just made him laugh harder.

"Well, I asked you to marry me in the bathroom. Tell me that isn't the funniest thing ever."

And Sara tossed her head back and laughed heartily, and that, to Greg, was the very best part of his day. And it had been a very good day indeed.


	4. In Which Mr Sanders Finds Eternal Bliss

4. In Which Mr Sanders Gets His Ducks in a Row (Epilogue)

Three months later, Greg nervously fidgeted with his tie, even after Nick adjusted it. In the tiny chapel he and Sara had chosen, the his few family members who had made it form New York sat, intermingled with the rest of the graveyard shift, a few lab techs, and a few cops and detectives.

Greg glanced at the mirror in the back room once more, and decided that this was what he truly wanted. He squinted his eyes, trying to remember his own vows, and nervously shook out his arms to relieve tension.

Out at the tiny altar, he grinned at Lindsey as she tossed flower petals from the basket they had handed to her earlier. She returned his grin, and flashed him a thumbs up when she found her seat.

Then there was Sara.

Sara in a plain white summer dress that loved her curves almost as much as he did.

Sara, who chose to walk to Greg alone, because she alone was giving herself to him.

Sara, who stopped his heart and stopped his breath.

As she met him at the front of the chapel, and took his hand, squeezing his fingers gently, He finally found that all that other stuff didn't matter, the cases, the lab, the bickering, the banter, the late nights and the early mornings.

As he bent to place a delicate kiss to her lips, even before the Reverend began to speak, Greg Sanders found that he had reached eternal bliss, Sara had placed the last of his ducks in a row.


End file.
